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“ Joy be their lot, and happiness," he cried, “ His lot and hers, as misery is mine!”

Such was that strong concussion; but the Man Who trembled, trunk and limbs, like some huge Oak By a fierce tempest shaken, soon resumed The stedfast quiet natural to a Mind Of composition gentle and sedate, And in its movements circumspect and slow. Of rustic Parents bred, He had been trained, (So prompted their aspiring wish) to skill In numbers and the sedentary art Of penmanship,—with pride professed, and taught By his endeavours in the mountain dales. Now, those sad tidings weighing on his heart, To books, and papers, and the studious desk, He stoutly readdressed himself—resolved To quell his pain, and enter on the path Of old pursuits with keener appetite And closer industry. Of what ensued, Within his soul, no outward sign appeared Till a betraying sickliness was seen To tinge his cheek; and through his frame it crept

With slow mutation unconcealable; Such universal change as autumn makes In the fair body of a leafy grove Discoloured, then divested. 'Tis affirmed By Poets skilled in nature's secret ways That Love will not submit to be controlled By mastery :--and the good Man lacked not Friends Who strove to instil this truth into his mind, A mind in all heart-mysteries unversed. “ Go to the hills,” said one,“ remit awhile “ This baneful diligence:-at early morn “ Court the fresh air, explore the heaths and woods ; “ And, leaving it to others to foretell, “ By calculations sage, the ebb and flow « Of tides, and when the moon will be eclipsed, “ Do you, for your own benefit, construct “ A calendar of flowers, plucked as they blow “ Where health abides, and chearfulness, and peace.” The attempt was made ;—'tis needless to report How hopelessly :but Innocence is strong, And an entire simplicity of mind A thing most sacred in the eye of Heaven, That opens, for such Sufferers, relief


Within their souls, a fount of


And doth commend their weakness and disease
To Nature's care, assisted in her office
By all the Elements that round her wait
To generate, to preserve, and to restore;
And by her beautiful array of Forms
Shedding sweet influence from above, or pure
Delight exhaling from the ground they tread.”

“Impute it not to impatience, if,” exclaimed The Wanderer, “ I infer that he was healed By perseverance in the course prescribed.”

“ You do not err: the powers, which had been lost By slow degrees, were gradually regained ; The fluttering nerves composed; the beating heart In rest established; and the jarring thoughts To harmony restored.-But yon dark mold Will cover him; in height of strength-to earth Hastily smitten, by a fever's force. Yet not with stroke so sudden as refused

Time to look back with tenderness on her

Whom he had loved in passion,--and to send

Some farewell words; and, with those words, a prayer
That, from his dying hand, she would accept,
Of his possessions, that which most he prized ;
A Book, upon the surface of whose leaves
Some chosen plants, disposed with nicest care,
In undecaying beauty were preserved.
Mute register, to him, of time and place,
And various fluctuations in the breast;
To her, a monument of faithful Love
Conquered, and in tranquillity retained !

Close to his destined habitation, lies One whose Endeavours did at length achieve A victory less worthy of regard, Though marvellous in its kind. A Place exists High in these mountains, that allured a Band Of keen Adventurers to unite their pains, In search of treasure there by Nature formed, And there concealed: but they who tried were foiled, And all desisted, all, save he alone ; Who taking counsel of his own clear thoughts, And trusting only to his own weak hands, Urged unrenittingly the stubborn work,


Unseconded, uncountenanc'd ; then, as time
Passed on, while still his lonely efforts found
No recompence, derided ; and, at length,
By many pitied, as insane of mind;
By others dreaded as the luckless Thrall
Of subterraneous Spirits, feeding hope
By various mockery of sight and sound;
Hope, after hope, encouraged and destroyed.
-But when the Lord of seasons had matured
The fruits of earth through space of twice ten years,
The mountain's entrails offered to the view
Of the Old Man, and to his trembling grasp,
His bright, his long-deferred, his dear reward.
Not with more transport did Columbus greet
A world, his rich discovery! But our Swain,
A very Hero till his point was gained,
Proved all unable to support the weight
Of prosperous fortune. On the fields he looked
With an unsettled liberty of thought,
Of schemes and wishes ; in the day-light walked
Giddy and restless ; ever and anon
Quaffed in his gratitude immoderate cups;
And truly might be said to die of joy !

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